Duty
by AZGirl
Summary: Having been there and seeing it first hand, he still could not believe that this had happened. Major spoilers for 3.09 The Prize.


**Disclaimer** : The Musketeers are not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

 **Spoilers** : 3.09 The Prize.

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" _He forgot everything I taught him, but I will say this: he never lacked courage_."

 _~~~~~~~Tréville, 3.09 The Prize_.

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Tréville nodded slightly to the men on guard duty as he entered the room.

When he caught his first glimpse of His Majesty lying in state on the dais, his feet stopped moving without his conscious permission.

Having been there and seeing it first hand, he still could not believe that his King, that Louis, was gone.

A sudden onslaught of memories rushed through him and stole his breath.

 _The assassination of King Henry IV, and seeing a stoic, young Louis at his father's funeral._

 _His time in prison for going against Marie de Medici during the coup attempt against her son._

 _The King promoting him to Captain of the newly founded Musketeers regiment._

 _His year of disgrace, being demoted, and having his King disappointed and unhappy with him._

 _Becoming Minister of War along with four years of war councils._

 _Having his King tell him he was dying, and doing his best to care for his sovereign._

 _As a younger man, being assigned to the King as one of his sword masters, and the occasional sparring sessions over the years, including that last one just before…_

 _Louis facing his death sentence head on with courage._

Tréville forced himself out of his reverie and back to the present time.

He had spent the majority of his life in service to the crown, and now His Majesty had given him one final duty to perform: Regent for the new King.

Forcing his feet to move once more, he chided himself for hesitating to approach the dais. Even during his time of disgrace, he had never once been afraid to approach his sovereign; he should not be apprehensive to approach him in death.

Standing next to the dais, he felt an overwhelming wave of grief crash into him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel since the King had taken his last breath. More than 20 years of service to a man he had watched grow into adulthood; it was difficult to see someone he cares about this way.

He had never been blessed with a wife or children, but Louis had always had a special place in his heart. Not quite a son – he didn't have that right no matter how he felt – but certainly family in their own way. He was thankful he still had his boys – his four best Musketeers – still in his life to help lessen the hurt of this loss.

Over the years, he had been a protector, teacher, confidant, confessor, servant, marriage counselor, advisor, and more – whatever the King had needed at the time. And now he was needed to be the protector for another Louis.

Until he had been told by Louis that His Majesty was gravely ill, Tréville thought that the younger man would most certainly outlive him. Doesn't every parent wish this to be so? Now the opposite of that wish was staring him in the face. He lifted a hand and gently laid it over Louis's much too-cold one.

A flash of what they'd been doing just before the King collapsed went through his mind. Had their sparring session hastened his sovereign's demise? He took an unsteady step backward, his guilt overflowing and feeling undeserving to be so close to his King.

After an unknown amount of time, he thought he heard a laugh – one that sounded so like Louis's that his eyes began to sting with tears. It was the same kind of laugh the King gave when he thought someone or something was being ridiculous. The realization that it was _not_ his fault stole over him. It was the white plague, Louis's illness that was at fault – not him. His King had died having a good day, one of a precious few since the grim diagnosis. He should not sully those last moments of joy that Louis had in his too-short life with baseless guilt.

Tréville stepped forward once again, thinking his King would have said he was being foolish for stepping back in the first place. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. Eventually, no louder than a murmur, he began to speak.

"Sire, I"—he shook his head in frustration and rubbed at his still-stinging eyes—"Louis, I am so honored to have been by your side all these years. It was not just a duty but my privilege, despite our occasional differences." He smiled slightly, thinking of the many times over the years that they had disagreed over something or another. Keeping his voice low, he continued, "Your Majesty has given me one last duty to perform. As Regent for your son, I swear to God that I will watch over him, to protect him as I protected you. I swear to help him grow up to be a wise and just king, someone you could be proud of and someone the people love.

"I pray—" His voiced cracked and he had to clear his throat. "I pray God will give me the strength to do all these things and more for your son. I hope you will not regret your decision."

He glanced around the room to make sure the guards were not watching and took the liberty of laying a hand gently upon his King's forehead.

"God bless you, Louis. I shall miss you greatly, but fear not, I will make sure your son remembers you."

Stepping back from the dais, he gave his sovereign a final, formal bow and turned to walk out of the room. As he walked away, he wiped the evidence of his grief from his face.

He was thankful he had been able to carve out these few moments alone with His Majesty before going back to a world in chaos. He must now go and keep his promise to his King – to protect the Dauphin from those who would harm him.

The King was dead. Long live the King.

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 _The end._

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 **A/N:** Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for her help; mistakes are a part of life.

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


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